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Okay... yet another case of somebody saying something and me going off on a tangent... the end result : Chiltred's Nitey-night stories.
Imagine, my favorite representative of EVIL... telling bedtime stories to his children. The following is a sample. (If response is favorable, I'll probably shamelessly post more.) Enjoy, let me know what you think: deckerm@ix.netcom.com Bedtime stories for little demons...There once was a shadowrunner who was very, very good. Now, when I use the term good, keep in mind the fact that I mean that he was very good at what he did. But this particular shadowrunner was a very evil man. He was the type of man that mother's warn their children about and late at night they tell stories of what he'd do to little children. Part of him was very pleased about this. He was the boogey man, the terror that stalks the night. He liked having children fear him, but even more, he liked giving them something to fear. When he walked into a room, people would look up at him, and when he looked at them, they'd look away: this made him very happy. Nobody wanted him to notice them, and there was a reason. He was tough and he was bad. I understand he was so tough, so evil, that he made the son of one of his victims his personal servant. Made him polish his shoes and his equipment and every night, and then he'd sit him down in front of the trid and make the boy watch his father die all over again: every night. And then he'd tell him... 'This is how you came into my service, fail me, and you will get the same.' The boy lived in fear of him, and that made the man happy. And when he played the trid, he'd watch the boy as he was forced to watch, he could see the pain and fear in the boy's eyes, and that made him even happier. Do you know why I am telling you these things? They sound familiar don't they?... You see, you have earned your place, not in Shadow-lore, but here, where I rule. For the rest of eternity, you will polish my boots, and every night, you will relive your own death... the death you suffered at the boy's hands when he grew old enough, and had had enough of your games... and then, in the morning, it will start all over again... Sweet Dreams...
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